Rise Of Myth: Heir To Valor 18 The Time For Mourning
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"Val, behind you! They're here!" Huginn called down.
"I see them!" Val called back as he whirled around, his burning gaze picking up a crowd of ghouls no less than twenty.
Instead of welcoming the new arrivals in the center of the intersection, Val charged towards them, meeting them on the edge. Lifting his left hand, a rune carved its way into existence before his palm. A bright orange, jagged 'S' shape rune like a lightning bolt quickly ignited into a large blinding light like the sun. Invoking 'Sigil' had turned night into day for a few seconds in the surroundings, blinding the approaching ghouls.
Seizing the opportunity, Val leapt forward, his steel swiftly liberating two more ghouls of their heads in one stroke. Weaving through the crowd, his blade danced in a series of flourishes, taking limbs and heads with every step. It was like a well-rehea.r.s.ed ch.o.r.eography of blood and steel, and Val was the lead. He was growing very familiar with the way the ghouls moved, beginning to strike and dodge on reflex alone. The occasional lucky ghoul got to keep their body intact when they fell as Val's blade thrust through an eye or their heart.
Dispatching the remainder of the crowd, Val mumbled numbers to himself as he counted a hundred and three kills. He returned quickly to the center, leaping upon another unfortunate ghoul stumbling over bodies of its kind.
"104…" He whispered under his breath as he removed his blade from a now split skull.
"105…"
"106…"
…
"147…"
It had been five hours since his crusade began, his s.h.i.+rt was soaked in sweat and gore, but he felt as energized as he did earlier.
"Val, catch." A gentle voice called to him.
He looked up as a small nylon sack fell from the air. Catching it, Muninn alighted on his shoulder a moment after.
"One of the officers thought me some kind of trained bird, asking if I could deliver this to you." She said with mirth in her voice.
"Huh, thanks, to both of you." Inside the sack, there was a small bottle of water and a bag of beef jerky.
Val removed the cap and drained the bottle in several large gulps, chucking the empty bottle to the curb.
Muninn frowned slightly. "The poor fis.h.i.+es won't appreciate your littering." She chided gently.
"The poor 'fishes' are celebrating the vast decline of new pollution after the apocalypse. Besides, you *eat* the 'fis.h.i.+es', what do you care about how they feel?" Val raised an eyebrow.
Giggling, Muninn replied. "I need them to be healthy and happy, so they will let their guard down for me to catch them!"
"By the way, didn't you tell me there was only a hundred ghouls?" Val asked as he took out the bag of jerky, tearing it open with his teeth.
"I said 'maybe', didn't I? You seem to be handling yourself just fine." She replied cheerily, not even excusing herself as she buried her beak into the bag and fished out a small piece of jerky.
Val simply rolled his eyes, fis.h.i.+ng out a large piece of jerky for himself.
"A dozen or so more to the north, this looks like the last of them!" Huginn called, suddenly interrupting Val's break.
"Got it! Thanks!"
"You'd best take a distance, here, you can have the jerky." Val stuffed the jerky into the sack and handed it back to Muninn, who happily took it and flew off, alighting on the roof of a small abandoned store with Huginn.
Lifting his blade, Val moved towards the street with the oncoming crowd, again invoking Sigil to blind his attackers as he leapt into the fray, blazing eyes and silver steel flas.h.i.+ng in the night.
A little more than six minutes later, only silence and the sound of labored breathing remained in the dark street.
Taking a 'relatively' clean s.h.i.+rt from a corpse, Val took a seat on the hood of a car and began to clean his blade, using the s.h.i.+rt like a rag. Cleaning gristle and fat from the sword stained almost black, he noted his final tally.
"161… f.u.c.k me, that's going to be a lot of bodies to deal with."
A pair of ravens landed behind him, on the roof of the car.
"I did suggest you keep the bodies intact." Muninn reminded.
"Yes I know." Val grumbled to himself as he sheathed his sword in its scabbard.
"I suppose you at least have them gathered up in one place already." Huginn remarked.
"Yep, that was the idea, guess I'll get started. Keep an eye out for any stragglers would you? Sun will be up in a few hours but the flares are already out." Val asked.
Val set about gathering the corpses. He lined up all of the intact or relatively intact ones in rows, marking each one with Hagal, a snowflake looking rune was carved into their skin. It was unpleasant work, handling partially or sometimes badly rotted corpses, but he was already so covered in their gore that he got over it quickly.
"Sigh… I'm going to need new clothes, might be able to clean the jacket, but I'm guessing there's no saving the rest." He grumbled as he worked.
When it came to the bodies he had left in more than a couple pieces, he opted to just mark them all and leave them in a somewhat ordered pile, only separating the heads into rows. By the time he was done, the intersection looked something between a macabre art exhibit and an archeology site for a tomb, only, these bodies were dressed in modern clothing. Hagal was not too taxing, since he did not need to invoke the rune directly, but after carving it little over two hundred times in succession, he felt his eyes were screwed up with orange snowflakes.
Taking a small break after a couple hours of organizing and tagging the bodies, Val sat atop a car as the early rays of morning crept across the sky. The two ravens returned, Muninn taking a spot on the same car, next to Val as Huginn skipped around the bodies, inspecting Val's handiwork.
"Must you wield that sword in such a brutish fas.h.i.+on? It's not an axe you know, the smith who made it would be in tears seeing this." Huginn lamented.
"Do you know the smith who made this? I'd love to get another if I could." Val asked.
"Hmph, as if thinking yourself worthy of one was not contemptible enough, you want two?"
Val ignored him, a series of movements in the corner of his eye caught his attention. From the warehouse, what looked like nearly all of the residents were approaching with weary, haggard expressions on their faces. None of them appeared to have had any sleep. Val remembered his frenzied blaring of the car horn with a sheepish smile.
At the front, Richard and the other officers were leading the way. As the sun continued to cast away the night, the horrific scene in the street was revealed to the residents. The asphalt was stained even darker with an almost black shade of crimson. Blood and gristle made marks on a few cars too close to the battle. Many of the residents had confusion and terror in their eyes, unsure which terrified them more, the gore covered young man with a wry smile and eyes like hot coals, or the rows of butchered bodies marred by his handiwork.
In the eyes of the officers and other witnesses who stayed up all night watching one man valiantly defend against an onslaught of the dead, never giving up his ground, was deep respect and grat.i.tude. Some of the officers struggled to meet his unnerving eyes, but forced themselves to do so in the end, as if to convey their appreciation.
Val's concern about a mob of noise complaints faded as he saw their expressions. Despite the obvious lack of sleep, their eyes remained bright and at attention, seeing this, his concern was replaced as he raised a questioning eyebrow.
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Clearing his throat, Richard broke the silence. "Have you um, 'marked' the bodies with your magic?" He asked.
"I have."
"So all that's left is for you to burn them?"
"That's correct."
"Then I'd like to ask a favor, if you aren't in a rush." Richard seemed hesitant as he eyed the bodies intently, seeming to be searching for someone.
"Hmm?"
"Can you give us some time to record the bodies? You aren't from here, but for us, some of these people might be friends, family, neighbors, people we've lost." Richard explained with a somber tone.
"That's no problem, I understand, just keep in mind, the soul and the body in this case probably won't be a match." Val briefly explained what he had been told about how ghouls came to be.
"That's fine, we understand, it's enough knowing the fate of those from our community. We can even help you pile the bodies for burning once we're done. Thank you." Richard signaled his subordinates, many of which were wearing latex examiner's gloves, disposable masks, and were carrying boxes of film and cameras. The crew set to work in a professional and efficient manner, snapping photos, even succeeding to match some severed limbs and heads with their bodies.
Richard conveyed Val's explanation and gave some instructions to the residents while the crew worked. He told them the truth of the curfew, the reality of the situation, explaining they might find friends and loved ones among these bodies, and that they would be given an hour to look through them before they would be cremated in the street. He clarified Val's presence in the shelter, how he too was a survivor, lost after the end of the world, that he had arrived offering to help, and delivered on his promise, dueling with the dead all night on his own. He ended his announcement with a firm promise that the time for mourning was now, and tomorrow they would begin in earnest to clear and reclaim the rest of the city. The residents reacted in a few different ways, some had a steely expression, some had fear, some broke into tears, others who were past this point and simply seeking closure looked hopeful.
Val empathized with many of them, reminded of his own family and friends. He wondered how many of them survived and were out there somewhere, silently praying he would not be forced to draw steel and put any of them to rest, even if it was just their body and not the soul.
Muninn seemed to notice his change in mood and hopped atop his shoulder. Seeming to read his thoughts, she simply stood there following his gaze in solidarity as he read the reactions of the crowd.
A lanky teenager with curly light brown hair accompanied by two others, interrupted Val's mood.
"Whoa, h.e.l.la sick eyes bro, are those real?" Ryan exclaimed, staring into Val's fiery gaze with wonder.
Realizing his mark was still running hot, Val willed it to rest, extinguis.h.i.+ng it to its black tattoo form as his irises dimmed to their natural brown color.
"Dude, that's f.u.c.kin' crazy, how do you do that?" Xin asked.
"You three are…?" Val eyed the teenagers with a pair of raised brows.
"I'm Ryan, can you teach me how you do that with your sword?" He asked excitedly, shamelessly trying to imitate some of Val's motions.
"Please ignore him. I'm Xin." A sleepy teenager maybe 5'8" or so of Chinese American descent was trying to suppress a yawn as he introduced himself.
A much more timid teenager with blonde hair seemed to be trying to figure out how to word something when he awkwardly blurted. "I'm Alex! Thank you for saving our friend!"
"Ah, Dan's friends then? You're welcome."
Looking over the three, he noted two of them he had heard about.
"You must be the Chief's son, and you're the Doctor's?" Val remarked as his eyes traveled across Ryan and Xin.
"That's right, but I'm going to be Chief one day, especially if you can show me a thing or two." Ryan beamed.
Ignoring him, Val noticed a particularly somber mood on Alex's face at the mention of his friends' parents.
"Are you alone?" Val asked gently.
"I'm not alone! My parents were on a vacation, they're probably at some other refugee site, Dana's been looking after me, don't worry." Alex insisted, though Val could tell from the uncertainty in his eyes that he did not believe his own words, Val did not press the subject.
"Hey! You three! Don't hara.s.s Val! I convinced the Chief for you so you could tag along to help, so take these gloves and come move some of these bodies." Jim came over with a few sets of latex gloves, grabbing Ryan by the back of his s.h.i.+rt collar. He regarded Val with deep respect in his eyes.
"Thank you. I owe you a drink." Jim said.
"For?" Val asked curiously.
"That was the best d.a.m.n cigarette I've ever had."
Rise Of Myth: Heir To Valor 18 The Time For Mourning
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Rise Of Myth: Heir To Valor 18 The Time For Mourning summary
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